To Say It Again
by Vanilla Mochi
Summary: Because in the end, they really would be fine.


**A/N: I don't even know what to say. I'm sorry if I messed up the characters. Hope you enjoy though!**

Word Count: 3,824 words

Warnings: AU, Dual Destinies Spoilers, Claypollo if you see it that way…

* * *

His door, Apollo Justice's door, was painted red.

One observation Clay Terran made, though the astronaut had been inside the defense attorney's apartment more than enough times to count.

What else was there? A potted plant that Apollo didn't seemed to water on a daily basis- its leaves were a faded brown that reminded Clay of one of those meteorite samples Aura used to scrutinize with a super-microscopic telescope. If Clay remembered correctly, the particles were quite fascinating to look.

Of course, only a space nerd like Clay (and Apollo) would be fascinated with a rock from space.

A rather fat-looking cat sat on the railing of the window at the end of the hallway. Its tail twitched as Clay assumed it was staring at the sky.

Speaking of the sky, which was the border to space, it was quite blue today- only a few clouds in sight. A day like today would be perfect to launch HAT-3-

What the hell was he doing? He slapped himself in the face with both hands. Now's not the time to think about space. No. Not now, not yet.

_Just ring the doorbell already!_

A particularly loud bellow- who was that? Clay wondered.

Then he realized it was just him- the hall was empty, save him and the cat.

Pouting, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Nothing wrong with this, right? Just a guy who almost got killed by an international spy visiting his best friend, whom he hadn't seen recently since the Space Center practically ate up all his time.

Now if only Clay Terran could get his finger on the doorbell…

_Can you just talk to him for us? Knock some sense into him? Please Clay?_

The way she had phrased it, the plan to talk to Apollo didn't seem at all nerve-racking. Not that talking to Apollo or anyone else for that matter was daunting. Right though, Clay squirmed in anxiety of what he would find behind the red door.

Apollo- of course, but what kind of Apollo? The normal spirited Apollo, or the Apollo that she had illustrated earlier? Part of Clay was afraid to discover.

He took a deep breath and adjusted his visor again; there was only one way to find out. In a burst of energy, his eyes shot open and with a fist, he banged on the door.

"Hey Apollo, it's me, Clay! Mind if you open the door?"

* * *

"Hey Clay, long time no see!"

Hearing his name, he dropped to the tan mat that would've barely cushioned him from falling from a nerve-wrecking height. Once his feet were firmly planted on the ground, Clay looked at the visitor.

"Hey there!" He greeted, still in safety straps, "And you are..."

Well, there was definitely hair too conspicuous to be forgettable- a mane of bright orange-and then that neat necklace that seemed to have a mind of its own. Or so Apollo had explained with the help of a family photo. He forgot its name too, though.

"Athena Cykes, right? The 'new girl at the office'. Apollo told me about you and his other friends."

"Yep, that's me!" Athena exclaimed confidently and glanced at his equipment curiously, "Back to training, huh?"

"Hnm-hm. Director Cosmos wouldn't let me do anything for the first month I was out of the hospital. Guess I got a little rusty during that time." He admitted, scratching the back of his head.

"Don't worry about that, I'm sure you'll be up there in space in no time."

"Yeah! I'm definitely sure about that," Clay said, unclipping his safety belts, "But enough about me, how are you doing? And what about Apollo? We haven't had time to get together recently."

Instead of hearing the typical, 'Oh, he's doing well and…" speech, he frowned when Athena didn't answer and the glint in her eyes faded. "Oh… about that…" She faltered, looking away and clutching an arm.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he finally dissembled himself from the safety belts, removing his leg from the loophole.

She took a deep breath. "You might want to sit down before hearing this."

"We have chairs." Clay motioned to the furniture, facing the fantasy-like hologram view, at the other end of the room.

Once they seated themselves in these… space-like training chairs and once Athena asked Clay to turn off the hologram because she really did find it kind of creepy, Athena, sighing, clasped her hands on the table. Following her movements, Clay turned to face her.

"He's the reason I came to talk to you." She admitted, fiddling with her thumbs.

"Go on." Clay pressed, desperate to know. He tensed, setting his jaw and preparing for the worst. What was wrong Apollo? He seemed fine the last time Clay saw him.

"Apollo," She confessed, eyes averted, "He's been running himself ragged since the Phantom case."

"The Phantom Case?" Clay interrupted distastefully.

He furrowed his brow: The Phantom Case- not a fun time. Probably because Clay had been fatally wounded by the Phantom, the international spy and spent the next few months in the hospital with absolutely nothing to do. According to the doctors, he shouldn't have survived the ordeal, but somehow, Clay did. Call it a miracle, though Clay preferred to see it as something meant to happen.

"Yeah, the Phantom Case," Athena repeated, "Apollo's been burying himself in his work ever since. It's not good for his health… he doesn't seem to be getting a good night sleep."

He felt his breath hitch. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"Of course we have!" Athena cried, offended. Her necklace turned an angry red, only for it to cool into a plain depressing blue moments later as her temper to abate, "Boss tried to get him to take a week off, but he… he just brushed him aside. Said he had too much to work on."

She looked up again, this time her eyes glistening with tears, "I don't know what to do anymore. At this rate, he's going hurt himself. We're all at our wits end. And that's kinda why I came here."

Clay blinked. Twice. "Huh?"

"Can you just talk to him for us? Knock some sense into him?" Her voice trembled, pleading. "Please Clay?"

* * *

His answer had been obvious. He would've done it whether Athena had asked or not.

But though he had felt cool about marching up to Apollo for a long overdue talk at the time, the same could not be said right now.

"Apollo?"

The door creaked open and Clay felt his heart jump. No one appeared from behind the door yet as he squirmed with anticipation. Which Apollo would come out? Clay had his fingers crossed that it'd be the Apollo Clay knew best.

"Clay? What are you doing here?"

"What do you think? To see my best friend of course." Clay retorted playfully. On the inside, he wanted to slap himself; no one was going to believe that, even without the bracelet. He then grimaced, squinting at his friend. "You okay? You look terrible."

Terrible was probably the best way to describe Apollo. Hair disheveled, not a hint of hair gel used. A well-ceased (or wrinkly) dress shirt and a bright red vest to match. Pallid skin that looked unhealthy even for a man who spent most of his time indoors, behind desks. And then there were the circles; the dark circles at encompassed the attorney's dark brown eyes like black holes.

"I'm fine," He said curtly, much to Clay's surprise. Rolling his eyes and looking away, Apollo moved to the side, motioning with an arm. "Do you want to come in?"

"Hey are you sure-"

"Do you want to come in?" Apollo asked again, this time more forcefully. Clay groaned, conceding. No point in arguing with Apollo, once he got an idea in his head. Particularly when it came to personal matters. And besides, for now, maybe bringing up the subject now wasn't the greatest plan.

Shockingly, the apartment was in a state just as dismal as the owner seemed. Paperwork littered the couch and the coffee table like sprinkles. Piles of dirty laundry reeked of sweat and body odor. And even from a distance, Clay could see a layer of dust collecting on the doorknob of his bedroom.

"Sorry," Apollo apologized sheepishly, "I haven't been able to clean up this place recently. Been busy with work."

"It's not a big deal," Clay said, closing the door behind him.

Apollo nodded, continuing, "I'll make us some coffee. Two cups of sugar and a pinch of salt, right?"

"You got that right! Want me to help?"

A shake of the head and a mocking comment. "Nope. We all know how bad your cooking can be."

"Hey! My cooking isn't that bad; Mr. Starbuck complimented me on my omelets yesterday!"

"I'll believe it when I see it." Apollo remarked, laughing. He turned toward his kitchen. "Seriously though, it won't take that long. I'll be fine."

After Apollo disappeared into the kitchen, Clay sat down on the well-worn couch, which creaked under his weight.

A few minutes passed or so space clock that Clay had gotten long ago for Apollo as a birthday present indicated. He tapped his foot against the hardwood and crossed his arms, all while cocking his head to one side. Now how was he going bring the topic of Apollo's health back, when Apollo wasn't even to acknowledge the subject? He sighed- there was only one way he could think of.

Still, sitting on the couch could get quite boring, even if it was for just a few minutes.

"Hey, Apollo? You almost done?" There was no answer, save the loud THUD that resounded throughout the apartment.

He jumped up from the said seat, walking into the kitchen.

"Apollo?" Clay asked again, "Everything alright in-" He stopped short, his blood running cold.

"APOLLO!"

* * *

He had fainted, breaking a coffee mug in the process.

Clay flew to Apollo's side and urgently asked as his knees hit the ground, "Apollo, are you okay?!"

All he got was a low groan.

"Dammit." He cussed- out cold like a rock. Slinging an arm over the attorney, Clay helped Apollo to his feet, though most of the weight fell on mostly the astronaut. When he finally managed to get to an upright position, Clay frowned; Apollo weighed like nothing. "Have you been eating anything?"

The question should've been considered rhetorical, since Apollo was out of commission at the moment. Sighing, Clay limped out of the kitchen with Apollo in tow and, kicking the door open, into the bedroom.

Much like the doorknob, the room was spotless- in a sense that no one seemed to use it much. A thin layer of dust had settled over the bed.

Clay threw the covers over, ignoring the inadvertent dust cloud created in favor for slipping Apollo beneath them and then pulling the blankets over. Grabbing a chair nearby, he placed it at the bedside and ran a hand over the attorney's stubborn strands.

"Apollo… what have you been doing to yourself?" Clay asked, worried.

Apollo looked as if he had aged a decade or so in these past few months. The lines beneath were evident, dangerously close to permanence and his breathing was soft, almost invisible to the ears. There was, however, a certain peaceful look the attorney wore.

Unfortunately, Clay knew (more of accurately predicted) that that was only because of unforeseen circumstances and events such as now.

Apollo, fine, huh?

I'm fine his ass. Clay didn't need a bracelet to think otherwise; why hadn't he realized that sooner? Guilt gnawed at him as he tried to think back to the first inconspicuous signs.

Then he remembered.

"_Are you sure you're okay, Apollo? You look tired…"_

_Twitching, flinching, a fake reassuring tone that only someone like Clay could've noticed. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine."_

From the moment Clay had woken in the hospital three months ago, he should've known: Apollo was far from fine. Wasn't that what friends were for? Best friends? Know you better than you might yourself?

Suddenly, Clay felt the urge to punch a wall; he settled for a slamming a fist on the unused nightstand instead.

"I've got to the worst friend ever…"

* * *

How does one entertain himself in the meantime, when waiting for a friend to return to the world of the living?

For Clay, a naturally restless guy, the answer came in the form of marching up to one of the many closets in Apollo's apartment and pulling out the Kleenex. And the mop. And the broom. And… was that a watering can collecting dust and cobwebs in the back?

Clay raised an eyebrow and reached in to pull that out too. Who ever knew Apollo had a green thumb?

Anyways, cleaning- Clay's way of passing time. He stood in the living room, facing the piles of dirty laundry and scattered paperwork and, taking a deep breath, threw his jacket aside before rolling up his sleeves.

He wasn't called GYLXA's Janitor for nothing.

(Although , to be honest, Clay only served as the Space Center's part-time janitor because it was either that, or cooking. And his cooking was, for the most part, pretty bad.)

Picking up the dirty laundry was the first thing on his agenda. Then sorting through the mountain came next, which, surprisingly, was not difficult at all. The only colors Apollo seemed to really wear was red. And white. And a couple of multi-color ties.

As for the paperwork that littered the couch and within the one meter radius, Clay settled for stacking it into towers high enough to rival Apollo's height when seated. Preceding that, he attempted to organize them by case, but that didn't really work out, since all the cases eventually blended together into monotony- dull and ordinary. Nothing like the cases Apollo had once told of with such enthusiasm.

Speaking of Apollo, he hadn't awakened yet.

Yet.

Clay was mopping the floor when he heard a feral cry followed by a horrible moan. Dropping the mop and accidentally kicking the bucket over, Clay bolted into the bedroom after slamming the door open.

"Apollo!"

The scene that unfolded was enough to drive Clay into a frenzy. His friend's face was twisted in pain as he clutched the blankets. Tears flowed down his cheeks and soaked the pillow beneath.

"No…Ugh…Stop it…"

"Apollo, wake up!" Clay hollered, icy fear taking over. He pounced on his friend and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Wake up!"

"No…No… No, NO!" Thrashing against Clay, Apollo panicked, his head helplessly flailing side to side. "Not him! Oh god, please, NOT HIM!"

"It's not real, Apollo." Clay insisted, shaking the attorney. "It's not real."

"Clay… Clay!"

He couldn't contain it anymore.

"Wake up Apollo!" Clay pleaded, crying out and trying and failing to choke back his own tears. "I'm right here! I'm okay! You're okay! I'm not dead! Just please wake up!"

In the nick of time, Apollo's eyes flew open. Frantically, the attorney searched the room and only to freak out when he looked ahead…

BANG!

"Argh, my forehead!"

"Your forehead feeling any better?" Clay asked when he returned from the kitchen. He tossed an ice pack to a now conscious Apollo. It landed in his lap, but the attorney made no move to use it.

Apollo shrugged. "It's fine."

"That's good." Clay smiled, sitting by the bed. A quizzical look crossed him as he contemplated the dreaded, but really necessary talk- the problem was how to go about it.

"Apollo…" Clay started carefully, "Are you sure you're…"

Already cut off from the beginning. It didn't take long for Apollo to clam up. "I'm fine."

Clay frowned. "You fainted Apollo."

"You point being?" Apollo snapped, glaring.

"My point being," Clay retorted, returning the favor and getting just as irritated, "it says otherwise."

"My health does not concern you, Clay." Apollo seethed, acid dripping at the last words.

"…" Clay grunted, readjusting his visor.

"If that was all you wanted to talk to me about, then you can leave, Clay."

"…Bullshit, Apollo." Clay said, ignoring Apollo.

"Excuse me?" Apollo snarled, his temper flaring again.

"You heard me, Apollo, " Clay repeated, shaking his head "That's bullshit- it does matter."

Apollo would've countered that; he held his tongue instead, since Clay refused to him the chance. "It matters to me, to Athena and to everyone who cares about you, Apollo. They were worried about you!"

Apollo wore blank stare now. Emotional defense. "…"

Clay felt his own temper cool and he sighed. "Look, Apollo, if you don't want to tell them, you don't have to. But can you at least tell me?"

Clutching his arm, Apollo looked away. Clay scratched his head, continuing, "Please? No secrets between us, remember?"

* * *

He had been having nightmares, Apollo admitted. They kept haunting his dreams at night, which was why Apollo was trying so hard to avoid sleeping whenever possible.

How long had you been…

"Three months." Apollo answered without a thought. "Since Phantom," He also added in a lower voice.

These nightmares… what were they-

"I was dreaming about you Clay." Apollo cut off again. "I could see you getting by him. Even after you got out of the hospital, I kept seeing it over and over in those…"

"…nightmares." Clay finished, horrified. They sat in silence for a moment, before, reluctantly, Clay asked it. The question, whose answer Clay dreaded knowing.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"There wasn't any point," Apollo answered, unperturbed, "I didn't want to worry you, that's all."

"You should've told me," Clay said, frowning, "I would've found out."

"Which," Apollo pointed out, "you did. Mr. Wright or Trucy was going to tell you at some point."

"Actually," Clay corrected, earning a raised eyebrow from Apollo, "That was Athena- the one who told me. But seriously, Apollo, you should've said so in the first place."

"You were busy, Clay, with the HAT-3 Launch and all-"

"Idiot." Clay poked Apollo's nose. "I may be an astronaut soon, but I'm your friend before all that. You know that."

"I do," Apollo protested vehemently, rubbing his nose, "It's just that… that… I… uh…"

"Go on," Clay encouraged. He chuckled a little as his friend kept sputtering- it was cute to watch.

Apollo closed his eyes, blushing. "I was…" Tomato cheeks and a deep breath. "Afraid, okay?!"

Fear? Clay furrowed his brow, trying to understand the mentality behind the statement.

"I was afraid of losing you again, Clay!"

"…Wh-What?"

The revelation suddenly made everything crystal clear. Clear enough that you didn't have a genius lawyer to figure it. At for least for Clay. Apollo didn't try to hide anything because he was trying to strong and stand on his own two legs. Oh no, it was far from that. Apollo was afraid. So afraid of losing Clay and anyone, everyone else he cared about- afraid to the point Apollo had to distance himself just to assuage these fears.

Clay had already been at Death's doorstep once; who ever said it couldn't happen again?

Giving Apollo the so-called 'space' only conformed his fears and sent him into this messed-up cycle; what he needed, more than anything, was assurance. Assurance that it wasn't his fault, that no one would be leaving anytime soon.

"Clay?" Apollo raised an eyebrow; with a trembling lip, Clay had pulled Apollo into a hug.

"Now I feel like an idiot." The astronaut muttered.

Apollo rolled his eyes. "Shocker there. You can be a real space dork at times."

"You too. But you know what I mean," Clay said, unusually stern. He pulled back, gripping the attonrey's hands. "I didn't realize."

Apollo shook his head. "You couldn't have known, Clay."

"But I did!" Clay insisted, effectively silencing his friend. "When you visited, I had feeling you weren't…okay. I had to convince myself otherwise and…" He forced a smile, looking away, "well, I was wrong."

"But I won't make that mistake again." He squeezed Apollo's hands and pushed the remorse aside, looking up again. "I'll tell you as many times as you need to- I'm here, Apollo. And I won't goingn anywhere anytime soon." Sighing, Clay suddenly felt tired. Maybe that was from all that cleaning. "I can't guarantee I'll be around for as long as you will, but… as long I'm breath, I'll be with you."

"Apollo?" Clay called, unsure- the attorney had been quiet the entire time. Eyes averted to the blankets, Apollo looked up. "Is that good enough for you? For now?"

The few seconds spent in silence stretched on for long enough Clay swore his heart might burst into a million metorites fragments, forever suspended in space, if Apollo didn't say anything soon.

The silence brook though. There were no words- instead there was a sigh that Clay was not aware of. It was rather short, unlike Mr. Starbuck's.

"I guess it'll do for now," Apollo said, relenting.

"Really?" Clay beamed- he wasn't actually sure if that would've assured the attorney. In general, it was rather difficult to get the attorney's trust after all.

"Yeah," Apollo said. Though his tone expressed fatigue, at least it was genuine. "I-" He yawned- a nice big one too. "Ugh."

Clay grinned. "Getting sleepy?"

Nodding, Apollo lied back down again, covering his eyes with his arms. "You can go if you want. I'll be fine."

"Nah." Apollo scowled and Clay grinned. "Aw, c'mon Apollo! Scoot over!"

He didn't give Apollo the chance anyways. The bed creaked under the weight of another person climbing in. Slipping in, Clay then threw the covers over the both of them.

"Clay? What are you-"

Clay turned to face Apollo. "What does it look like?" He laughed as Apollo blushed his signature color. Yep, there was definitely the Apollo he knew. "Hey, we haven't done this in a long time."

"You have no idea how wrong that sounded."

"Too bad. I'm staying either way. So," Clay pulled Apollo into a hug and buried the attorney's face into his chest. "Get some rest, Apollo. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." A statement Clay was bent on keeping. "Sleep, Apollo."

It didn't take a long for the attorney to fall asleep. Before long, Clay could hear a soft, steady breathing fill the room- he smiled.

Tightening his grip, Clay rested his chin over Apollo's head as he felt arms encircle around his shoulders and clutch the clothes.

He closed his eyes. He was fine. Apollo was fine. And tomorrow, they could talk some more. Tomorrow, when Apollo was feeling a little better.

But for now, here they were, sleeping, at peace, even if it were just for a few hours. It would take a while to get back normal and for the both of them to truly be okay, but that was fine.

Clay and Apollo would always be fine, in the end.

_Fin._


End file.
